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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29340699">By the Moat</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinna_moon/pseuds/Cinna_moon'>Cinna_moon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(because obviously I can't write a fic without them), Baz-centric, Epic Friendship, Gen, M/M, Niall questions his sexuality, Niall really cares about Baz, POV Niall, Pranks, Silence of the Vampire, Silly humour, Smoking, They set the friendship goals, Watford Eighth Year, teenage angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:35:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,645</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29340699</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinna_moon/pseuds/Cinna_moon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They are just teenagers, attending their last school year before they’ll have to face the future outside of Watford. But until then, they have their spot, just behind Mummers, where they can figure it all out: life, merwolf mating, and naturally, only making sense when dating your sworn enemy.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dev &amp; Niall &amp; Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch &amp; Niall, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>By the Moat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dear <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Particularly_Good_Finder">Lee,</a> working with You was a majestic experience. I enjoyed every moment of the editing process, which I usually find annoying, but this time, not only did I feel challenged and inspired but I believe You've made me a better writer. I've had a soft spot for this fic ever since it was written and now, it's a better story, all thanks to You. I am immensely grateful for Your thoughtful comments and the hours You dedicated to this. Simple thank You won't suffice so I tried to form this as a love letter, but You deserve to hear one nonetheless. Thank You. ♥</p>
<p><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowieDragon">My love,</a> thank you for being a Sirius to my Remus and encouraging any, and all of my silly ideas (including the ones corrupting you, which are, undoubtedly, not silly)! ♥</p>
<p>All remaining mistakes are mine.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I never really know how to talk to Baz when he gets like this. With that distant look of his marring his features. He looks like a statue, elegant and unreachable, propped up against the wall, holding a cigarette in one hand and his wand with the other. His gaze is turned to the water in the moat and he <em>never </em>says anything. I've tried. I've tried to be serious and asked him what was wrong, but he just looked at me and laughed. I've tried to cheer him up by telling him how the Mage embarrassed himself in class earlier when one of his ever-present robins flew into his sleeve and peed there. Merlin, that girlish sound he made. That didn't work either. To be honest, I'm not even sure Baz heard me. He just stared in front of himself and I felt wrong to be laughing when he was clearly miserable. Or something. I wish I knew.</p>
<p>One time I went to Snow and asked him – friendly – what he'd done. Oh, is that boy clueless. I talked to him without mentioning something was wrong with Baz – I'm sure Baz wouldn't like Snow to know – but it wasn't necessary. Snow had no idea whatsoever.</p>
<p>Nothing much changed either, when Dev was here. Baz just said he 'didn't need any bloody bodyguards' and left for the Catacombs. We’ve learnt the hard way not to follow him there, to leave him alone for whatever he usually does there, to look away when sometimes he came back with puffy eyes.</p>
<p>I'm standing next to him now and don't know what to say. With a shoulder resting against the wall of Mummers house, I'm looking at the football pitch in the distance, and at my best friend, who is coincidentally also a Pitch. (I think I know why Baz, hell even Dev, tells me my puns are terrible.)</p>
<p>I break the silence because I feel really stupid and hopeless. And so bloody useless. "May I?" I reach out my hand and Baz hands me his pack of menthol cigs. I don't really know why we started smoking. It was just a thing to do one boring summer. We thought the others would take us more seriously if we had this aura of importance brought by a cigarette between our lips. That had only worked for Baz, though. I don't know why Baz keeps the filthy habit now but I know why Dev and I do. For him, of course.</p>
<p>We smoke silently and I think I should go do my homework, knowing it will take ages, but I don't move a muscle. I believe Baz is glad he's not alone. I have to – because there's nothing else I can do for him.</p>
<p>I stub the butt against the wall and drop it into the glass we put here in an imitation of an ashtray, dug into the ground to keep it hidden. Baz takes his last drag and does the same. I prepare for leaving – that's what we usually do, turn without a word and separate to our own rooms – but he isn't moving.</p>
<p>I think of my homework again, just a flash through my mind, but I cast it off, hoping Dev is working on his right now and that he can help me with mine later.</p>
<p>I look at Baz and as if he's finally snapping out of whatever state he was in (Crowley, I hope he is), he turns his gaze to me, searching for something in my eyes.</p>
<p>"Do you ever-" he pauses and his eyes shift, that movement when a person can't decide which eye of yours they want to focus on, so they switch between them until they've found a balance in the middle, and still. It's one of Baz's nervous tics, something he does when he's racking that intricate brain of his. </p>
<p>"Do you ever," he repeats, "miss something so much you feel it in every fibre of yours, miss it so badly you can't think about anything else?"</p>
<p>After a few seconds of thinking, I say, "Yeah," hesitantly, wanting him to talk to me but at the same time I know I have to be careful if I don't want him to close off. I wait for him to continue, but he's just looking at me with that unreadable grey expression.</p>
<p>"What is it you're missing?" I ask finally, praying hard it's not too much.</p>
<p>He stops and thinks, and after a moment, I begin to flick little bits of rock and hardened dirt off the edge of the moat into the water in front of us, to give him time to respond.</p>
<p>"I don't know," he finally says, and my heart breaks a little at the raw, fleeting honesty in his voice.</p>
<p>* </p>
<p>The next time we're at our spot, I’m eating an apple and Baz is watching Dev throw rocks at merwolves. He has quite a good aim. They are being wild and noisy, jumping out of the water like dolphins and Dev guesses it might be their mating season, which makes Baz spit hatefully and murmur curses how the world doesn't need more of them. He takes out his wand and makes small circles of ice on the surface of the water, and is incredibly pleased when one poor merwolf bumps its head into it. I pity them a little; they are innocent after all. But since Baz is smiling, I am torn between smiling and frowning in disapproval. </p>
<p>When he gets bored with his torturing, Dev comes to stand beside us, and without asking steals my apple.</p>
<p>None of us takes a smoke this time, and we listen to Dev's crazy ideas about merwolf mating, all of which are disgusting; what’s making it worse is the fact that Dev is talking with his mouth full. Of <em>my </em>apple<em>.</em> I like listening to his ramblings, though, and Baz is in one of his moods, not saying anything. But he doesn't send us away, which I consider a victory.</p>
<p>* </p>
<p>I sprint out the door, more than 15 minutes late – one moment I was reading a book for PoliSci and the next moment I woke up with my cheek squished against the page and some drool on the paper. I spelled it away, cringing at the wetness. Morgana knows why this only happens with PoliSci.</p>
<p>I round the corner, seeing Baz is already there, his back to the wall as usual. I don't even manage to say hello before he spits "<em>Leave me alone,</em>" and goes back to his distance-gazing.</p>
<p>I stand there for a few seconds, not understanding what is happening – whether I previously did something to deserve the cold shoulder. I turn around and go back to my room, going over the events of the day. On the first floor, I meet Dev who looks like he's in a rush, too. The state his cheek is in is far too familiar.</p>
<p>"Don't bother," I tell him and he halts.</p>
<p>"What's wrong?"</p>
<p>"He's in one of his moods," I say without specifying. We're both too familiar with Baz’s moods and if someone asked us to categorize them according to colours, I bet we’d give the same answers.</p>
<p>Dev sighs. "What did he say?"</p>
<p>"To leave him alone."</p>
<p>"For Crowley's sake, don't you think we should do something about it?" </p>
<p>"Like what?" I ask a little bit too harshly. I know Dev doesn't deserve it, and that I shouldn't take my frustrations on him, but I can't help it.</p>
<p>He shakes his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Like... Like making him talk to someone!" </p>
<p>"You know how it went last time." I sigh. It didn't go anywhere. </p>
<p>* </p>
<p>"At least I have never spelled my trousers to fall in front of a whole class."</p>
<p>"Shut up, Baz, you always bring that up when you don't know what to say!"</p>
<p>"I always bring it up because it's too funny not to."</p>
<p>"I'm not- do you see me laughing?"</p>
<p>"That only makes it better."</p>
<p>I can hear their voices even before I reach the Mummers. And there they are, Snow and Baz, with their bodies having stricken their usual fighting stance, a light smell of smoke surrounding them. I don't know what they are fighting about, I'm not sure if <em>they </em>do either.</p>
<p>I go wait in my room till they're done, and I know to go back when I hear Snow's angry stomping on the stairs. My room is on the second floor, next to the staircase, but I suspect his feet could be heard from just about anywhere.</p>
<p>I find Baz with a cigarette already lit, and I don't need to ask him to hand me the pack this time, he beats me to it. I can see it for what it is – an apology from someone who’s always been too proud to admit to his mistakes – and conversely, my taking the pack is implicit forgiveness.</p>
<p>"So. What was that about?"</p>
<p>"He was following me." Ah, so the classics. "And said I cheated at Greek today."</p>
<p>"You, cheating? He must be blind."</p>
<p>"He said I couldn't have written the test 'that well'."</p>
<p>I wonder if Snow ever listens to himself, especially when he talks to Baz. I mean, when he argues with Baz.</p>
<p>"He left his t-shirt in the bloody sink again."</p>
<p>Here we go, Baz listing Snow's bad deeds of the day. At least he's talking.</p>
<p>* </p>
<p>Sometimes I wonder what happened to Baz in September. He came back different, somehow. And yeah, then there's the part when he closes himself off and when Dev or I try to talk to him, he doesn't respond. Or if he does, he avoids the questions completely. Like he did just now.</p>
<p>"Baz. What's going on?"</p>
<p>"Did you know the Mage wants to hold a trial against my father in front of the whole Coven in January?"</p>
<p>"What?" I splutter. "What the bloody fuck for?"</p>
<p>"Apparently, my family is sponsoring the Humdrum."</p>
<p>My mouth drops open, and I must look an absolute fool, but luckily Baz is keeping his eyes trained firmly on the ground. I let out a sort of half-snort of disbelief, speechless at the idea that anyone could delude themselves into thinking that the Pitches would work with the Humdrum. Not that anyone would want to work with him, but <em>the Pitches</em>? Have they met the family? </p>
<p>"And it would seem he has some evidence, so we shall see how it plays out," he adds indifferently.</p>
<p>* </p>
<p>Then there are times when Baz doesn't show up. I take his place, pulling the hoodie over my head to shield me from the wind, and take out a cigarette. The thing with magic is you don't have to worry about the wind blowing out the flame when you wanna light up your cig; the flame is magic, after all.</p>
<p>I take a long, deep drag and hold it in until my eyes water. I study the general direction Baz is usually looking at, but I can't see anything. Anything significant at least. Our spot is behind Mummers house, so all he could possibly see is the edge where Wood ends and the wild meadow begins. The true hills begin more to my right, where the Snow's beloved Ebb and her goats stay. I wouldn't know this information weren't it for Baz and his weird obsession with Snow. Or Snow's weird obsession with Baz, I don't really know anymore, which way it goes. Or, I do know – both. Although Baz would never admit it out loud. It's okay, though, I don't expect him to.</p>
<p>I don't expect him to do anything, except it would be nice if he talked to us.</p>
<p>Things used to be different. Before we started calling this spot ours, we would hide behind Mummers and think up new spells to pull pranks. (Or to irritate Snow. Or to pull pranks on Snow.)</p>
<p>I haven't always been Baz's friend, I hadn't even known him before we came to Watford. We didn't talk much the first two years, he was sneering all the time and I thought he was a right git, I hadn't really expected him to talk to me. I always made friends easily, but he was in another league. Posh, proud, rich. The only one who could stand his biting comments was Dev.</p>
<p>Then I ended up paired with Baz on some project in Astrology. It was a perfect opportunity to get past our differences and become friends. We didn't do that. We kept our contact to a friendly 'hello' at the corridors and that was it.</p>
<p>But then, the next year I decided to join the football team and there they were, both Baz and Dev. And they laughed at my comments, and Baz's snark grew on me. I really don't know how it happened. Suddenly I was competing with Baz over who could spell the other's shoelaces into the weirdest colour or shape. One time, Baz even made mine sing London Calling by The Clash and no matter what we did, we couldn't get the enchantment off so we had to take drastic measures and bury the laces out on the edge of the Wood. We didn't bury them deep enough, though, and we could still hear them, muffled, during football practices for the whole next month until the spell wore off. Coach Mac nearly kicked us all as we tried not to laugh. And you just can't stop being friends after that.</p>
<p>So here we are, after almost six years, I finally thought I had Baz figured out, but trust him to ruin it dramatically. Not that I've ever expected anything else.</p>
<p>* </p>
<p>"What do you think would happen if the Humdrum sent a giant scone to off Snow?"</p>
<p>"He would still eat it."</p>
<p>We laugh quietly, the sound blending into the evening dusk somehow.</p>
<p>"But first, he would try to befriend it."</p>
<p>"I bet he'd make Bunce settle an organisation to save Ms. Big Scone, claiming it's the last endangered species."</p>
<p>"Crowley, he would even marry it."</p>
<p>"...We are pleased to inform you of the engagement of one Simon Snow to one Ms. Big Scone..."</p>
<p>"The wedding will take place in English Scone Natural Reservation. Please don't bring any scones as a present to the newlyweds for it would be disrespectful to the bride. Thank you."</p>
<p>We laugh and the world seems a bit easier to live in.</p>
<p>* </p>
<p>What I learnt a long, long time ago is that you have to be patient with Baz. Take, for example, his mum. He mentions her from time to time, when he needs to, when teachers try to force him into something he doesn't agree with. He reminds them of her, says her name, holds it like a blade. But only last year did he really talk to me about her. How he can't remember her much anymore. How the only thing left of her is her old spellbook, which he has known by heart since he was 12. How he thinks his father forgot about her. How his aunt talks about her only occasionally, if ever, because it still hurts too much. How he thinks she had rather died than stayed with him.</p>
<p>It was a lot to process. Once he started talking, he couldn't seem to stop. Of course, there was no one who would have stopped him, least of all me–I was just so fucking glad he shared it. He hadn't really said anything that deep before. I listened and put a comforting hand on his shoulder, which he didn't notice because as soon as it dawned on him how much he had said, he shrugged it off and not long afterwards, an expression of such loathing crossed his features I was– I was shaken. He left. </p>
<p>And for the next few days, he acted so carefree. He was his usual self, behaving like the whole world was there to offend him. I kept thinking about what he had said, though. It was the first time we didn't talk about meaningless shit. And to be honest, I had no idea what to do, or what to think. I didn't know what it meant. I kept thinking about it until I realized there was such deep sadness inside of him, my heart broke. I wanted to punch someone, and I wanted to make him all right. I managed only the former.</p>
<p>* </p>
<p>"I swear Baz is trying to kill me." I complain to Dev, laying face first on the football pitch, trying to catch my breath.</p>
<p>However, my tormentor must overhear me (I wonder how it’s possible he <em>always </em>catches things that aren’t meant for his ears) because his mocking voice comes from somewhere to my side. "Or you've been eating too many crisps."</p>
<p>"You eat just as much as I do, even more, and you haven't broken into a sweat yet!"</p>
<p>I turn onto my back just in time to catch Baz thrusting his chin up and looking haughtily down his nose at me. "That's because <em>I</em> am a Pitch. Pitches don't sweat."</p>
<p>"You are a <em>Grimm</em>-Pitch, in case you forgot, and you're not as noble as you'd like to think," Dev, bless him, says and one corner of his mouth twitches upwards.</p>
<p>I'm not on the team anymore – I’d injured my knee during a match and it didn't heal quite right. I spent so much time on the substitute bench it stopped being fun. Baz isn't either due to his late arrival which leaves only Dev left on the team from us three. I liked it, but I guess not quite enough. There's only a certain amount of someone commanding me I can handle before I snap. And that usually doesn't go well for me.</p>
<p>I miss it, though. I miss playing with Baz, we could read each other's moves like no one before. We sometimes sneak in after practice and just play between us three. We used to do this after our normal practices too, that's why Baz was so good at it. Still is, only Coach hasn't taken him back. </p>
<p>Somehow we’re back on our feet, racing each other after the ball, the grass under our feet, dank. I don't notice who scores, I pull out my wand and spell the ball to the other side of the pitch and I'm running. I may be the first one to it. We’ll see who’s been eating too many crisps.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>I've appointed myself Baz's personal diary.</p>
<p>Only he doesn't know. Crowley, he'd set me on fire if he knew.</p>
<p>* </p>
<p>When I say Baz doesn't come to our spot every time, I meet up with Dev anyway. We usually trash talk about our roommates or classmates, as there really isn't anything interesting happening at Watford. I mean, if you don't talk about the Humdrum or war. But we know nothing about the Humdrum and we don't know much about war either. Baz says the Mage really has it against the old families and Dev might even go home and what, fight? He doesn't know.</p>
<p>Dev is great. He knows damn near nothing about feelings, that's why he's so oblivious to many situations, but he understands Baz on some strange level I will never comprehend, and that's probably for the best. He is so genuine and can name all the stars in an alphabetical order. He likes slapping people on their back when he laughs or when he's leaving and it's so very comical when he smacks poor Baz who tries not to fall on his nose. But Dev has suffered permanent damage of being with Baz too much – he's learnt his sarcastic comments from the best, after all.</p>
<p>They also have the same smirk after a prank gone well. They hate the Mage with the same venom. Runs in the family, I guess.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>I've never really seen Baz date. So when he says "<em>I'm gay,</em>" I say "<em>Yeah, all right</em>".</p>
<p>* </p>
<p>Baz has a little flame dancing on his palm and he's using it to light up his cigarette so I lean in and use it to light my own.</p>
<p>"Dev is with Marcus, he won't be coming today," I say.</p>
<p>Baz gives me a few distracted nods, takes a drag and stays quiet. I try not to watch him like a hawk, but his '<em>stop watching me</em>' tells me I'm not as subtle as I'd like to be. I inhale and sag my back against the wall. It's getting colder so I bring my knees to my chest, hugging them. Baz stays on his feet, but it feels weird when he looms over me so I shake his leg until he is sitting next to me, the acrid smell surrounding us. I tap the filter and send some ash flying into the air and then I notice Baz's eyes following it. I smile at him. He is staring at me like I'm on the TV but eventually his lip curls in something else than a sneer. It softens his face.</p>
<p>"How's Mordelia? "</p>
<p>"Good. She got a puppy."</p>
<p>"Still writing you letters?"</p>
<p>"Yes," he smiles again and closes his eyes, letting his head fall against the wall. "She asked about you. When you'll be coming over and how's school."</p>
<p>I chuckle. "And what did you say?"</p>
<p>"That you're doing as good as always, and that if she shares her puppy, you might visit."</p>
<p>Mordelia is very sweet. She loves learning new things and runs to Baz whenever she has a question to ask. He acts annoyed but I bet he is pleased. He’s hard on her because 'she doesn't have the proper manners of a Grimm-Pitch.' For all of his statements that he doesn't care, it sure doesn't seem so.</p>
<p>"Has she started attending school already?"</p>
<p>"No, she’ll be home-educated until she turns eleven."</p>
<p>I frown but don't say anything. I stub the butt and drop it into our makeshift ashtray, before digging it out of its place in the ground with two fingers and my thumb on the opposite rim, and hand it to Baz. He drops his butt in and I carefully wedge the glass back into the hole. The weather is slowly getting colder these days; we won't be able to sit on the ground like this, soon. As I think it, Baz shivers.</p>
<p>"You cold?"</p>
<p>"I'm fine."</p>
<p>I can't help it this time. My mouth opens before my brain processes the words. "Are you?" </p>
<p>He opens his eyes, frowning, lets his upper lip curl in distaste.</p>
<p>"Careful, Niall," is all he says but it misses its usual threat. Or I ignore it at this point. </p>
<p>"You are not fine, Baz," I repeat. In for a penny, in for a pound and all that shit. I really don't know what I'm hoping to accomplish here, it doesn't even follow our conversation. It is too late though and Baz won't let me pretend I didn't say anything.</p>
<p>"Don't try to tell me what I fucking am. It's none of your business."</p>
<p>"Of course it is."</p>
<p>"Hell no. Stick your bloody nose somewhere else and let me fucking be!" He nearly screams and tries to leave but I scramble to my feet right away and by squeezing his shoulders, I force him to face me.</p>
<p>"Don't push me away, Baz."</p>
<p>"You're doing it all by yourself."</p>
<p>"I'm your friend, I want to help you."</p>
<p>"Do you? Well, go on then, tell me what I bloody feel if you're so good at it," he spits and nearly bares his teeth at me.</p>
<p>Those words, along with his cruel expression, sound like a punch to my gut: but I'm on the verge of desperation. He is holding me by my wrists in a painful grip, but I'm not putting my hands away from his shoulders. </p>
<p>"You're lost! You're closing in on yourself, hating yourself for whatever reason you made up and you refuse to talk to us. You put a brave face in front of the whole class every day, you act like your usual self and only let this mask slip off in here, for only half an hour a day. That's not fine, Baz, not for me!"</p>
<p>He sneers. "Good. No one asked you for your opinion anyway." </p>
<p>"I'm your fucking friend, you wanker!" I explode, suddenly registering my rapid breathing.</p>
<p>Baz breathes heavily as well, crushes my wrists as he screams back at my face. "NO ONE ASKED YOU TO BE!"</p>
<p>His words sting. I snap my hands away and punch him. I am about to at least, but in a second he has me slammed against the wall, my breath knocked out of me. Our positions reversed and it's his hands now, on my shoulders, squeezing me painfully. He looks me in the eyes with a cruel, mocking expression and in a deadly voice, hisses, "Fuck. You. Find someone else who wants to hear your analyses."</p>
<p>And then he's gone.</p>
<p>* </p>
<p>It's hours before I can finally move. I had sunk to the ground on that spot Baz shoved me and stared into nothingness. I grabbed the pack of cigarettes and pulled out one, but my hands were shaking so hard I only managed to light it up on my fifth try. I smoked and smoked, eventually stopping after my third cigarette because my lungs started to hurt.</p>
<p>That went terribly. I had thought we were finally getting somewhere but I fucked it right up.</p>
<p>How the time passed, I don't know. I kept sitting there and blaming myself, in that nice bubble where I forgot I had school the very next day and that my roommate hates it when I come back late.</p>
<p>Nothing existed.</p>
<p>I keep seeing Baz's expression. He hated me at that moment. He probably still hates me now.</p>
<p>All this time I've been telling myself to be patient when dealing with Baz and then I snap at him like that. I'm such an idiot.</p>
<p>By the time I get to my room on the second floor, it’s already gotten dark and I have no idea what time it is. I had to have been rubbing my wrists unconsciously because the next moment I'm looking down at my hands that are only illuminated by a small light coming from the bed lamp, I can see the bruises that are forming there already, even in this poor light. I keep staring until my roommate tells me to kindly fuck off to sleep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>* </p>
<p>The bruises are there the next day. </p>
<p>Baz isn't.</p>
<p>* </p>
<p>Whenever Baz and Dev argued, usually about their Grimm-Pitch idealism (Baz would mock Dev for his father's farming skills and Dev'd say Baz's Aunt Fiona was stuck in her sixteens, rioting for rioting’s sake) it was always me who'd make peace between them. It was easy. They wouldn't really mock each other, only what they had been told. I'd have to remind Dev that Baz didn't mean his harsh words the way they sounded, and Baz not to be a cruel son of a bitch. Not in that wording of course, it had to be softly implied between the lines. Baz had always been smart enough to get it.</p>
<p>But this time... Not once have we been in a situation like this.</p>
<p>Baz doesn't talk to me, refuses to acknowledge my presence and if his gaze accidentally stumbles upon me – he looks right through me, as if I were a ghost. Or rather, a merwolf, since he despises me just as much.</p>
<p>And I stay quiet.</p>
<p>My ego got kicked right in the balls but I refuse to apologize because I don't know what for. I'm sorry, Baz, for trying to help you? No bloody way.</p>
<p>If wants to pretend he hadn't asked to be my friend... I can pretend the same.</p>
<p>It hurts, though. And I have regrets of course. </p>
<p>Dev's registered something is off too. The weird awkwardness floating around our table in the great hall, or at classes, is unfamiliar.</p>
<p>"Hey, what did I miss?" he asks at breakfast, the day after.</p>
<p>No one answers him.</p>
<p>Now he has to talk to us separately, and I feel like a dick. I don't do anything about it.</p>
<p>I know the situation is serious when even Snow notices the atmosphere between us. He throws suspicious glares at us over the tables every chance he gets. I give him the blank stare, Baz lifts his eyebrow.</p>
<p>One day, when I'm walking alone to Elocution, Snow stops me by grabbing me by my shoulders and I just – let him.</p>
<p>"What are you plotting? What is Baz up to this time?"</p>
<p>"Ask him."</p>
<p>"He won't- he wouldn't tell me."</p>
<p>"And what makes you think I will?" I give him a blank stare.</p>
<p>"Er-" </p>
<p>He looks like I’ve caught him off guard which is ridiculous, and normally I'd tease him some more, but due to this weird mood, I take pity on him. "Look, Snow, he’s not plotting anything. As far as I know, at least."</p>
<p>"He is. I know he is. He has his plotting face on," he says, head high, and I'm reminded this fearless person spends all of his free time watching Baz. Maybe I ought to ask him, instead of Dev, to colour-sort Baz’s moods. </p>
<p>I chuckle, bitterly. And I decide to tell him the truth for once. "The only thing he's plotting right now is how to not talk to me." </p>
<p>But Snow doesn't believe me. "What?"</p>
<p>"Figure it out. Or ask your Bunce for help."</p>
<p>I leave.</p>
<p>The class passes in blur, just as every other does. </p>
<p>*</p>
<p>I don't go to our spot by the moat anymore, and I know Baz doesn't either. I just can't bring myself to go there and stand in silence and think. Instead, I spend my time buried in my room, trying to do the work I was supposed to at classes and I often find myself reading deep into the night.</p>
<p>The worst part is, it's not just Baz not talking to me, I talk less with Dev too. I just don't want him to think he has to choose between us. </p>
<p>I don't want to know who he would choose.</p>
<p>* </p>
<p>After a week or so, my room becomes suffocating and just like that, I start going to our spot again.</p>
<p>By myself.</p>
<p>Almost shyly, Dev joins me.</p>
<p>"Hey."</p>
<p>"Hey."</p>
<p>Silence, awkward silence. I stare into the distance, Dev stares at me and suddenly I’m back in that night with Baz, but this time I am Baz and Dev is me. I can't let that go on.</p>
<p>"How have you been?" I ask, stupidly.</p>
<p>"Weird. Everything's weird."</p>
<p>"More like fucked up," I say guiltily.</p>
<p>I lean against the wall and slowly slide down. Dev sits next to me but otherwise stays quiet.</p>
<p>"You have a cig?"</p>
<p>He hands me one. I don't usually smoke when Baz isn't here but I miss the comfort of distraction. I hoped it wouldn't get to this point.</p>
<p>When he doesn't get one for himself, I offer him mine after lighting it up and he takes it. It's still so weird. I have to talk.</p>
<p>"I'm really sorry, Dev. I didn't want you to get into this mess and force you to pick sides," I sigh. "What happened is that I had... kind of a fight with Baz, and I think I pushed him too much but you know how he is; when he doesn't want to talk, he won't. For some reason, I thought he finally would."</p>
<p>I take the cigarette back and Dev gives me a sad smile. I look away.</p>
<p>After a moment, Dev speaks. "Everything's about Baz, isn't it?"</p>
<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
<p>"We are friends because of Baz. We smoke because of Baz. We don't talk because of Baz. We hate Snow and the Mage because of Baz. We-"</p>
<p>He doesn't finish.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry," I say again with a dull ache in my chest. Not only have I fucked up with Baz, now it seems I have with Dev as well.</p>
<p>He turns to me. "Have you ever realized that when you're drinking water, you're actually drinking a part of a comet? Or a meteor?"</p>
<p>I smile, just from the pure <em>normalcy</em> of things. I nudge him with my shoulder and he grins. "How so?"</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>"He’s sulking, you know."</p>
<p>"Why do you think so?" I ask tentatively. We were avoiding talking about Baz like a plague. We tried to recreate something like an illusion where we could pretend it was just us, but the problem was – it had never been just the two of us. We couldn't just erase Baz, he is the brain of most of our missions.</p>
<p>"Because whenever you come around, he lifts his head and nose higher and puts on his where-are-my-servants look."</p>
<p>"Does he make that huffing sound?"</p>
<p>"You bet he does."</p>
<p>We're shamelessly laughing at Baz, something we only occasionally indulge in.</p>
<p>We don't mention him much from then, yet we don't avoid saying his name anymore. That's why it surprises the living Crowley's blood out of me when I see him at our spot later that week, Dev holding him by the end of his sleeve, wrinkling Baz's precious jumper, and Baz says nothing to him, letting him do it. Merlin's balls.</p>
<p>I greet them with leisurely nonchalance, watching from the corner of my eye how Dev elbows Baz in the stomach. Hard.</p>
<p>He doesn't greet me. I get a nod which is as much as I can hope for.</p>
<p>"Right. Okay. You have half an hour to figure this bullshit out. I'm not paid enough to deal with you two." And with that, Dev leaves.</p>
<p>"Fucking Grimms," Baz mutters. I chuckle and wait to see what will happen.</p>
<p>I almost give up and speak first, but Baz releases a soft sigh and I know I won, even though it's not a competition.</p>
<p>He searches his pockets, pulling out his pack of cigarettes and offering one to me.</p>
<p>"Thought you’d never ask." I take the cigarette, and that's as much of an apology as I can hope for. It's symbolic. It's Baz. I snatch it from his hands, not wanting to give him time to take it back.</p>
<p>"Look," I feel the need to say. "I'm sorry for pushing you. I can't say it won't happen again but I really am sorry if you feel pressured or something."</p>
<p>"It's alright, Ni."</p>
<p>"Really?"</p>
<p>"I have said so, haven't I? It pains me to say, but I've not been my best self as of late."</p>
<p>I nod and don't confirm it, it seems impolite. We smoke silently.</p>
<p>"I've been too hard on you. Especially since you're always here. For me." I'm not sure I heard that right but he sounds kind of uncertain. That's not our Baz. He is always so sure of himself.</p>
<p>"Of course I am. You'd be in a disastrous state without me."</p>
<p>He frowns and shakes his head. I laugh.</p>
<p>In the spur of a moment, I hug him in a one-armed embrace and pat him on the back. He doesn't comment on it and I don't either. All has been said.</p>
<p>* </p>
<p>"Which one of you losers is up for a game?"</p>
<p>There is no time to answer- the ball has been kicked and if we don't want it to end up in the water we have to move.</p>
<p>When it comes to football, Baz is competitive as fuck. But so am I and so is Dev.</p>
<p>It's also Dev's way of making up. Brilliant idea. Things are getting back to normal.</p>
<p>"Hey, Baz, you run like my granny!"</p>
<p>"No, he doesn’t! Her wheelchair is faster!"</p>
<p>* </p>
<p>After that, things change.</p>
<p>The change is not that apparent, not like waking up to find out the world is covered in snow and everything is white and blinding and cold – nothing so drastic.</p>
<p>It's more like when your neighbour is baking a cake and you have your window opened, and at first, you just smell something, something good, but it's faint and you don't know what it is, but maybe after fifteen minutes, you can smell it's sweet and chocolate-like. Then after another fifteen minutes you know it's a cake and it reminds you of that one your mum always makes when it's someone's birthday.</p>
<p>The change is subtle but it's there.</p>
<p>Baz's grumpy cloud is somehow a little less thunder violet and little more the usual grey.</p>
<p>"Why did we start smoking, Baz?"</p>
<p>"We wanted to be tough."</p>
<p>"No, really."</p>
<p>He wears a sour look of disdain and I almost don't expect him to answer. Almost. I have hope.</p>
<p>"It was an act of rebellion. Against my father."</p>
<p>"Really? Why?"</p>
<p>"I came out. Sort of. And he wasn't really pleased about it."</p>
<p>"Oh, right. Makes sense."</p>
<p>"Does it?"</p>
<p>I shoot him a confident smirk – he doesn't like it when he is predictable. Too bad I have him figured out.</p>
<p>"Was it that year...?" I leave the question open. He can catch my meaning, if he wants to.</p>
<p>He nods and that's all we say about the topic.</p>
<p>I remember that year. It was two years ago, the one and only time I came to visit Baz at his home.</p>
<p>It was a weird summer, both for me and for Baz. My parents were going through one of their phases and I needed a place to escape to.</p>
<p>I called Dev, but it was, surprisingly, Baz who offered me a place to stay. Said we could have fun chasing the wraiths. And we had. They were blissful days, spent lying around, eating crisps and playing Baz's violin. Turned out, I wasn't as bad at it as I had expected, as long as he didn't try to teach me notes. I could only remember melodies and follow them. </p>
<p>All went well, that is, until one night. We were in one of the studies where Baz used to practise, on the far end of the manor, so we didn't disturb Baz's siblings. We stopped playing hours ago and went to Malcolm's not-so-secret liquor cabinet and nicked half an empty bottle at random. It was Irish whisky. And it was disgusting because neither of us, being the alcohol virgins we were, knew we ought to have mixed it with ice. We stopped just shortly after we'd started, but we still managed to drink enough for the alcohol to kick in. We were pleasantly buzzed. </p>
<p>I don't remember very well what we talked about; we were drunk for the first time ever, sitting on the floor next to each other for support and our speech was slurred. Then came a moment when I noticed something was wrong with Baz. He was looking at me so very intensely, not even laughing at the joke I had said. I leaned closer to him, jostling him slightly, and bumping our heads in the process, which seemed like the most hilarious thing in the world. We stayed like that, our heads touching, my hand still on his shoulder, too heavy to move, and that's when he whispered "Why can't it be you?" </p>
<p>Maybe from his haunted look, or maybe from the desperation in his voice (or maybe the combination of both) I knew what he was asking. And he realized it a second too late too, if his violently pulling away was any indication. </p>
<p>But I didn't let him. I pulled him back, squeezing his shoulder and moving so that he was forced to rest his head on my shoulder. I thought he would appreciate not having to keep eye contact. As with any other time, I didn't know what the right thing to do was, so I just went with what my gut was telling me. </p>
<p>"Baz, no offence, but I'd strangle you. You never say what you want and when you <em>do</em>, you either say the opposite of what you mean or you turn it around to offend the other person."  </p>
<p>"Of course I don't do that," he mumbled petulantly into the crook of my neck.</p>
<p>"Nope. Never." </p>
<p>And then we laughed. His laugh was more from embarrassment, but it was a good laugh nonetheless. </p>
<p>"Who is it?" I asked quietly. </p>
<p>He didn't reply for a long, long time but when he did, his voice sounded hoarse, broken. "Simon fucking Snow."</p>
<p>"Ah." I patted him on the shoulder in sympathy. I didn't tell him anything else, he must have already known it sucked to be in love with the person that hated him the most in the world. </p>
<p>I've also never considered it an option that Baz could be in love with me. Because he wasn't. I know it now and I knew it then. I kissed him chastely on the cheek and pulled him closer. He threatened to spell my lips away but it was mumbled into my neck, completely losing its effect. I told him about my fear of flying and how my mum had caught me doing something she was never supposed to see a few days prior, just so he wouldn't have to feel like the only vulnerable one. </p>
<p>"You're a bad friend, Niall," he says now, in contrast to my memories. </p>
<p>"Wow, thanks. Why?"</p>
<p>"You'd do anything for a friend in need."</p>
<p>"Um, yeah. And how exactly is that bad?" I ask, frowning, because unless I missed out on some Friendship 101 classes, I’m fairly sure this is the main reason why people become friends.</p>
<p>"You'd do anything. Even destroy yourself."</p>
<p>We stay silent and let his words sink in. He may be right. </p>
<p>* </p>
<p>"Describe yourself in three words."</p>
<p>"Pathetic. Fierce. Gay." </p>
<p>"Loyal. Sarcastic. Twat."</p>
<p>"Weird. Terrific. An eagle."</p>
<p>"Since when are you an eagle?"</p>
<p>"Since now!"</p>
<p>He spreads his arms as if imitating wings and with a weird and terrific shriek Dev bumps into us, head first.</p>
<p>"Twat," I say.</p>
<p>Baz smirks. "No, that's you."</p>
<p>"Shut your pathetic trap up."</p>
<p>"I can't. I'm gay."</p>
<p>"Valid."</p>
<p>* </p>
<p>The next time I come to our place, Baz is already there. He is sitting on the ground, one leg bent and his forearms crossed over his knee. His head is hidden between his arms and he is shaking so very slightly.</p>
<p>He is also crying.</p>
<p>I take a seat next to him as if nothing's happening but, Merlin's tits, I don't know what to do.</p>
<p>Do I pat him?</p>
<p>Do I pretend everything's fine? Do I crack a joke?</p>
<p>Do I hug him?</p>
<p>Why is he not in the Catacombs? I know that's his usual place to cry it off, but we've never acknowledged that we know.</p>
<p>In our fifth year, when Snow had shown his stalking inclinations, we used to guard the Catacombs from him. Only a few times, though, because then Baz stopped going during the day when he could be seen. </p>
<p>I warily scan the area for any potential danger, but of course there's none. I let him cry and when he's finished, he looks up at me with puffy eyes that are not pretty. </p>
<p>"Snow had a Visiting when I was – absent," he starts. </p>
<p>"I didn't know," I say carefully, wondering where he’s going with this.</p>
<p>I keep my eyes trained on the moat, but from the periphery I can see him playing with the flame dancing on his palm. I don’t like this type of silence between us. It's oppressive, violent, screaming in a thousand voices I am not able to hear. Baz is fighting against invisible soldiers and I can’t even protect his back as I don’t know what direction the blows are coming.</p>
<p>"It was my ...my mum," he whispers, voice broken. I chance a look at him and see his eyes full of fresh tears that he doesn’t let fall. I quickly look away before I can feel the responding moisture in my own eyes.</p>
<p>It takes a while till I find my words again. "What could she possibly want with him?"</p>
<p>He clears his throat several times and magics the flame away, clutching his hands into fists. His voice sounds more steadier now. "To find me, of course. When she couldn't, she gave the message to Snow."</p>
<p>"Which was?" I prompt him. </p>
<p>"To find her murderer," is his dull response and I can’t help gaping at him.</p>
<p>He tells me the details and he's not said nearly half of it when I blurt out, "I’ll help you."</p>
<p>He smiles, softly, eyes still shining. "I know you will, Niall."</p>
<p>* </p>
<p>The next several weeks, Baz spends more time with Snow and Bunce, even skipping the time usually reserved for us. </p>
<p>I don't blame him, but it's getting cold, and standing for half an hour in the wind is not exactly pleasant. </p>
<p>Then it's Christmas hols and everything is covered in thick layers of snow. It's kind of nice and it makes going home easier. </p>
<p>Most of the time, though, I am bored, catching up on TV series I have been missing on and texting with Dev. </p>
<p>I hear from Baz two times. The first one, he texts me '<em>Snow is here.</em>' He doesn't respond to my '<em>couldn't make it without you?</em>'</p>
<p>Later, he texts, '<em>He kissed me</em>.'</p>
<p>'<em>Wooohooo, finally! Had he waited for you to make the first move, we'd have all been waiting for eternity.'</em></p>
<p>
  <em>'No one asked for your comments.'</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>'You wrote me first'</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>'Won't make the same mistake twice.'</em>
</p>
<p>I chuckle, he is so helpless. '<em>I'm happy for u, mate</em>'</p>
<p>The news about Mage being dead and the Humdrum vanishing reach us, but I have no idea about Baz's involvement in it all until he tells us when we're back at school.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>Time flies so fast. We neglected our spot the whole of January. It's simply too cold. </p>
<p>Baz is also busy snogging Snow senseless. </p>
<p>It is comical, they are not out to almost anyone, yet they are not careful who might see them. One time I catch them snogging on the third floor of Mummers. I cough, loudly, and laugh at their faces when they break away from each other with the same surprised expressions. </p>
<p>The next time, they are in an empty classroom, Baz sitting on a desk and Snow standing in front of him, in the V of those long legs. </p>
<p>"You know, it's pure luck it's me again," I say. It really isn't, I was looking for them purposefully – it's tea time. </p>
<p>Snow turns to me with a frown and I catch a part of Baz' face from where he is hiding behind Snow. His cheeks are red from embarrassment. </p>
<p>"Go away," Snow tells me.</p>
<p>I grin widely, so even if Baz doesn't see me, he will know from my voice that the grin is there. "It's tea time."</p>
<p>"I swear on Crowley's grave, Niall," Baz growls, "-if you don't get your ugly arse out of here in three seconds, I will spell your fingers away. Permanently."</p>
<p>"No offence but I -"</p>
<p>"Three."</p>
<p>" - don't think you're in -"</p>
<p>"Two."</p>
<p>" - any state to use your wand."</p>
<p>"One." </p>
<p>"Well, the other wand I mean!" I raise my voice so it can be heard over the loud noise of the door being shut behind me. </p>
<p>The only thing I regret is not getting a proper look of Baz's face.</p>
<p>* </p>
<p>We start visiting our spot again when it's a bit warmer. I half-expect Baz to bring Snow with him, but no such thing happens. I'm glad. I have seen enough of them two snogging to last me a lifetime. </p>
<p>We're smoking quietly, just the two of us. </p>
<p>"Where's Dev?"</p>
<p>"No idea."</p>
<p>I take a drag and then say, "It's nice being back here."</p>
<p>Baz hums in affirmation, closing his eyes as he leans languidly against the wall. He is relaxed. </p>
<p>"How's it going with Snow?" I ask quietly. </p>
<p>"Good," he responds without opening his eyes, but there's something, judging by the way his voice raises a little in uncertainty at the end. So I wait. </p>
<p>"I think it's good... I don't know. We don't talk about it."</p>
<p><em>Well, yeah, you're both busy with one another's tongue</em>, I am tempted to say. I don't. Baz wouldn't appreciate the teasing at the moment. </p>
<p>"Then talk to him," I tell him. Unhelpfully, by the way he looks at me.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>"You think he's happier?" Dev asks me, almost shyly. </p>
<p>Even though I think I can read Baz quite well, in truth I am never sure. He is good at bullshiting himself – he trusts whatever lie he tells himself. Therefore it's hard to get past his mask when he is convinced about something. But I can't let Dev know about my doubts, so I push my shoulders back, nudging him playfully. </p>
<p>"I hope." </p>
<p>"He looks happier," he reports – and isn't that good to hear from Dev who doesn't recognize emotions unless they stomp on his feet and paint his skin green.</p>
<p>"Yeah. Yeah, he does," I say with a small smile.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>The time Baz almost kissed me opened something in me. Something that has always been here but I didn't know about, not at first. The lack of confusion, or panic, or anything else should have given me a hint though. </p>
<p>It hadn't; Baz had ended up being the one to point it out. </p>
<p>"Would you have let me?" he asked one time during his darker period. He used to be so quiet, just standing and smoking and then usually he'd ask something like this–so out of the blue I had never caught the pattern. </p>
<p>"What?"</p>
<p>"That time in my house. I was about to kiss you... Would you have let me?"</p>
<p>"Uh," I started but paused. Would I? I hadn't thought about it before. Merlin, I hadn't even thought about it then. "Probably not." </p>
<p>"Why?"</p>
<p>"I knew you didn't fancy me."</p>
<p>"But you didn't panic." I shrugged. I didn't really know where he was going with that. "Most blokes would panic if another bloke tried to kiss them," he added and gave me a pointed look I pretended not to see.</p>
<p>"Hm," I shrugged again. "I've never really cared about such things."</p>
<p>Then he smiled knowingly and it felt like something big had just happened. </p>
<p>I've been thinking about this conversation ever since – not constantly of course, just on occasions, when I felt my mind was clear enough. What I came up with wasn't so surprising after all. I would have let Baz kiss me – if he wasn't Baz. (That sounded like the worst and dumbest revelation ever.) My point was, I would let a <em>bloke</em> kiss me. </p>
<p>I wasn't freaked out by realizing that, I just didn't know if it had changed things. I was still me, right? Would something have to even change? </p>
<p>I still don't know the answer, months after the talk and my genius revelation. So far, I don't feel any different. </p>
<p>* </p>
<p>Baz is indeed happier. His step is lighter and his eyes clearer. He doesn't look as haunted as he did back in October. I've never thought I'd say this, but I am grateful for Simon Snow. </p>
<p>* </p>
<p><em>Fucking Snow</em>, I think the next time I come to our spot. Baz is brooding and I would bet just anything on The Chosen One being the reason. </p>
<p>"Hi," I say carefully. I can smell the heavy cigarette smoke clinging to Baz's clothes. The cigarette in his left hand is clearly not his first. </p>
<p>He nods in a form of a reply. </p>
<p>The old dance is back. I try to ask him how he is, but I get no answer. He is staring in front of himself, somehow curled up on himself while standing perfectly straight, and somewhere far away in his mind. I take a deep breath, admiring my patience. Crowley knows it's been trained for this. </p>
<p>There's a pack lying on the ground, I bend down to take it and light up my own cigarette. I casually put the still half-full pack into my coat pocket since Baz isn't paying attention. </p>
<p>He holds a flame in his right hand. It's fascinating. I stare at it for so long I can't see anything else, my whole vision is slowly taken up by the flame. Nothing else exists. </p>
<p>After a while, Baz opens his mouth, his voice deep, perfectly clear, quiet. "How do you know you're still alive?"</p>
<p>I blink and turn my eyes from the flame, blinded. What sort of question is that? </p>
<p>There should be an answer, I know there is. Merlin, but my mind draws blank. </p>
<p>I finally settle for "I'm still breathing," because what other answer is there? </p>
<p>"That may not be true all the time," he says cryptically and motions for me to come closer before I have the time to form a question. </p>
<p>I curl my hands around the flame, almost cupping it. But not quite. </p>
<p>"Do you feel it?"</p>
<p>I nod and risk raising my eyes to meet his. They sparkle wildly. </p>
<p>"I do," I say out loud, lowering my gaze back to his palm. </p>
<p>I do feel it. He could set us on fire in a millisecond. I do feel the heat, pleasant, with the touch of burning. I feel the <em>difference</em>.</p>
<p>He doesn't say anything else and we're about to split – I to my room, and he upstairs to his – when he asks (it sounds more like an order):</p>
<p>"May I have my pack back?"</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>It's two final months until the Leavers Ball, until we finish school. I can feel the excitement coming from the eight years, anxiety too. </p>
<p>We're full of contradictions. </p>
<p>"What are we gonna do after all of this?"</p>
<p>"I don't know," my dark haired friend replies. I'm not disappointed at the answer, because mine sounds the same. </p>
<p>"Have you talked to Snow?"</p>
<p>"About?" </p>
<p>"About your future, you git."</p>
<p>"Is there any?" </p>
<p>He stalks away before I can ask anything. </p>
<p>* </p>
<p>"What did you mean yester-?"</p>
<p>"I am glad the Mage is gone."</p>
<p>I heave a sigh, "Well,...me too."</p>
<p>* </p>
<p>"Who are you going to the ball with?"</p>
<p>I haven't given it much thought, to be honest. Some mates said we'd go as a group which sounds like the best idea. I shrug noncommittally, I couldn't care less about some ball. "You going with Snow?"</p>
<p>He purses his lips. "Haven't asked."</p>
<p>"What are you waiting for?" I get only the silence back, so I try again. "You want to go with him, right?"</p>
<p>"Presumably."</p>
<p>"So just ask him, you wanker, you can't wait till he deduces it, you don't have that much time."</p>
<p>"Shut up."</p>
<p>"So now it's only you who can insult him?"</p>
<p>"I said shut up."</p>
<p>"Whatever. Just ask him."</p>
<p>* </p>
<p>"Are you nervous?" </p>
<p>"No. Are you?"</p>
<p>I take a deep breath and lean back against the wall, clasping my hands together in the hoodie pocket over my stomach. "Yeah...a little."</p>
<p>Baz is standing to my right; always right. He has his arms crossed over his chest, which would usually be a sign of him blocking off the world, but this time he is open, chatty even. </p>
<p>"What are you nervous about?"</p>
<p>"Uh, everything?" I laugh non-humorously. Tomorrow's the Leavers and it feels like I suddenly don't know where I am standing. </p>
<p>"You'll be fine, Ni," Baz says and I want to believe him. A corner of his lips twitches upwards, and he wants to believe it too. <em>We'll be fine</em>.</p>
<p>"You'll go to med uni," he continues, "be a respectable doctor, Dev might discover a new bloody galaxy or whatever, and as predicted, <em>I</em> will be plotting. How to make Snow drool with different types of clothes I will be wearing."</p>
<p>I laugh and smack him over the shoulder, his self-satisfied smirk deepening. I know he just wanted to ease my worries, but it worked. Whatever happens, we won't lose this thing. All those however long evenings of standing, smoking and not pretending will forever be ours.</p>
<p>"Hey Baz?"</p>
<p>"Hmm?"</p>
<p>"You remember that time you said you were missing something? But didn't know what?"</p>
<p>I risk a glance at him. His face is open, pensive but there's no shadow hiding at the edges. </p>
<p>"Have you found it?"</p>
<p>"I think I might."</p>
<p>"What...was it?"</p>
<p>"A sense of belonging. I've never really had it before...but I think I could. With Snow." He pauses, looking in the distance and I wonder whether he'll continue. He does. "I'm not sure there's a future with him. Or if I can keep it. But I feel like I could give him my whole heart and... he'd treat it right. I just – make sense when I'm with him."</p>
<p>Baz has always been a little poetic and always shy about it. I smile, feeling nostalgic already. </p>
<p>"I'm really happy for you," I say quietly. He looks into my eyes, giving a small nod in return. "Keep him, yeah? Whatever you do, keep him and this feeling."</p>
<p>"Even if it kills me," he promises. He searches his pockets for his ever-present pack and draws two cigarettes. I put mine between my lips and he lights his and mine both at the same time. </p>
<p>"Don't think I haven't noticed."</p>
<p>"Noticed what?" I ask, confused. </p>
<p>"Your subtle goodbye. This is not the end, you pillock." I chuckle at the use of his the-whole-world-is-offending-me voice. </p>
<p>"It's not?" I tease him. Because the world is big but suddenly I'm not afraid anymore. I know my friends will be in it with me. (And I guess that will mean Snow as well.)</p>
<p>"Of course not," he scoffs. "We'll have to find another spot, that's all."</p>
<p>"I will take it as a promise, Pitch."</p>
<p>"Good. You should."</p>
<p>So, I guess that’s what we’ll do. No matter where the future takes us, or what type of song my shoelaces are singing, as long as we find another spot we can call ours, we’ll be what we’ve always been. Baz and Dev and Niall. Fierce vampires, sarcastic twats, weird astronomers. Friends. </p>
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